Convicted
by MidnightStorm96
Summary: Trans-dimension. AU.  One accident with Floo Powder. That's all it was.    Now Harry's stuck in a world where Voldemort doesn't exist, Sirius is still alive, and Harry's scar's gone?    Oh yeah, and he's a convicted mass-murderer and torturer of Muggles?
1. Chapter 1

CHAPTER ONE

Harry had been waiting around all summer for Dumbledore to pick him up, as he had promised. Had Harry been having his way, he'd be waiting at the Burrow. Dumbledore, however, had other plans.

Harry sat in his bedroom, sucking on the end of his Sugar Quill absentmindedly. It would be his birthday tomorrow – not that it mattered to the Dursleys. But, in an effort to lift his low spirits, he reminded himself that he would get some presents from his friends.

This, however, did not lift his spirits the slightest, because it reminded him of whom he _wouldn't_ be receiving a present from, not for the rest of his life. Sirius had died last June, and it was all Harry's fault. Just that single thought made him want to just run away, and leave everything, forever. The closest thing he'd ever had to a family, was gone forever.

His stomach churned, and he sighed. There was nothing he could do, he reminded himself forcefully. Nothing.

A tapping at him bedroom window distracted him enough to lose his train of thought. He turned his head towards the window, where a tawny owl was tapping its leg against the glass. Harry opened the window hurriedly and tore the letter from the owl's leg. It was written in writing he recognised extremely well:

_Dear Harry,_

_Unfortunately I am unable to collect you myself, however, I would like you to visit your neighbour Arabella Figg. Her fireplace has temporarily been connected to the Floo Network. Please Floo to Hogwarts (which, incidentally, has also been temporarily connected) now._

_Best wishes,_

_Professor Dumbledore_

Harry's spirits lifted instantly. Hardly stopping to think, he filled his trunk with his belongings, grabbed Hedwig, stuffed his wand (which had been on the bed beside him) in his back pocket, and wheeled the trunk out of the room.

'Where're you going, boy?' yelled Uncle Vernon.

'To Ron Weasley's,' replied Harry, lying easily. 'See you next summer!'

And with that, he stepped over the threshold, and into Privet Drive.

He didn't care that people were watching him, wheeling a large trunk and an owl down the street. He just kept walking, reaching Mrs Figg's small house in the space of ten minutes. He pressed the doorbell with his free left hand, as his right was being used to hold Hedwig's cage. Harry tapped his foot impatiently as he waited for Mrs Figg to arrive. When she did, he stepped into her house with barely as much as a quick 'Dumbledore sent me.'

'Hello, Harry,' said Mrs. Figg. 'Dumbledore's sent you already? In any case, the fireplace is over here.'

She led Harry to the lounge room, in which was planted a large fireplace. 'Here's the powder,' she said, handing him a container.

'Thanks,' said Harry gratefully. 'Er – see you next summer.'

He dropped the powder, and, just as he was about to speak, Mr Tibbles meowed so loudly that Harry jumped, sending ash flying. 'Arggh!' cried Harry.

And then he was gone.

Harry opened his eyes. He was lying on the ground. He definitely wasn't in Little Whinging, nor Hogwarts, not even Ottery St Catchpole. In fact, Harry didn't think he'd ever been here in his life. Harry stood up.

'Hello?' he called out tentatively. There was nobody around. He stood up, and with a start realised that Hedwig and his trunk were gone. Perhaps they were still at Mrs Figg's, he thought wildly. He removed his wand from the back of his jeans and held it close in front of him. 'Lumos,' he murmured. He glanced around. He was standing in the middle of an obviously-Muggle street. 'Brilliant, just brilliant,' he muttered. What was he meant to do now?

A sudden inspiration came to him. Harry jogged over to the side of the street, and stuck out his wand. Seconds later, he saw a familiar pair of lights, attached to a triple-decker bus, stopping in front of him.

A young, pimply-faced teenage wizard stepped out. 'Welcome to the Knight Bus, emergency transport for stranded witch or –'

'Where am I?' Harry asked, not bothering with the proceedings.

'Where are you?' Stan Shunpike asked. 'In the middle of Cheshire, you are. How come you don't know where you are, eh?'

'Got lost,' said Harry distractedly, wondering how on earth he could have ended up in west England.

'Got lost,' repeated Stan. 'How'd joo get so lost that you didn't know which county you were in, eh?'

'It doesn't matter,' said Harry quickly. 'Listen, I need to get to Ottery St Catchpole, d'you know where that is?'

''Course,' said Stan. 'That'll be nine sickles, but for eleven, you get –'

Harry wasn't listening. _Money_. He reached for his pocket frantically. A Galleon. Harry breathed a sigh of relief. He certainly didn't like the idea of being stranded in Cheshire until someone found him. He handed Stan the Galleon. Stan returned Harry his change and gestured to a nearby bed.

''Ang on,' said Stan suddenly. 'What choo say your name was?'

'Neville Longbottom,' Harry said promptly. He did not need Stan Shunpike gawking at his forehead until he got to the Burrow.

Stan's eyes suddenly widened. 'Arry Potter! _'Arry flaming Potter_ is 'ERE! Ern, 'elp me!'

Ernie Prang's mouth fell open.

'Look, can we please not do this?' Harry said. 'I really do need to get to –'

'ERN!' yelled Stan. '_Do_ something, Ern! Call the Ministry!'

Harry stared. 'What? Why would you call the Minis—'

'Potter.' Ernie was on his hands and knees. 'Potter, I'll do anything. Don't go near the wife or the kids, I'll do _anything_.'

'ERN!' Stan yelped again. 'It's _'Arry Potter_ 'ere. Tie 'im down or something, quick!'

The whole scene looked quite ridiculous, honestly, thought Harry, who was completely dumbfounded.

'He'll attack my children if we do anything!' Stan argued.

'I'm not going to attack –' Harry stopped. He had just caught sight of his reflection in the rear-view mirror.

He didn't have a scar.

'_P_ - _Pertrificus T - Totalus_!' yelled a voice behind Harry. Before he had time to turn around and see who it belonged to, and why anybody was getting cursed, he felt his immobile body him the floor.

Before had he time to think about that any longer, he was trapped by the body bind curse.

'Bloody hell,' said Ernie's voice. 'Stan, you just cursed the darkest dark wizard, you did!'

''_Arry Potter_,' said Stan in awe. 'I just beat the darkest dark wizard!'

Harry's scar was gone. He was supposedly the darkest dark wizard.

This was _not _happening.

The answer was one of two things. Either the Knight Bus was playing some joke on him (which he seriously doubted), or he was dreaming (which he was sure he wasn't).

These realisations were not a lot of comfort.

He didn't have a scar – what did that mean? Maybe the floo powder had blasted it off. No, that was just stupid. Scars couldn't just disappear, especially if they were curse scars from Voldemort.

But then again, _Ernie Prang_ was calling him a dark wizard and _Stan Shunpike_ had just body-bound him. Perhaps anything was possible. He stared up at the ceiling of the bus, wondering vaguely if Dumbledore was still waiting.

Dumbledore! He'd be able to tell Harry what was going on!

Before he could think any more, there was a bang. Harry heard what seemed like hundreds of footsteps enter the bus.

'Where is he?' asked a gruff voice.

Harry heard Ernie respond. 'He's there, Aurors. We've body-bound him –'

'_I_ body-bound him!' replied an indignant voice. 'Stop taking the credit, Ern!'

'Yes, well, he's in there.'

Harry heard footsteps coming closer and closer. Then he heard a deep voice he could've recognised anywhere. 'Straight to Azkaban.'

Harry's momentary relief was flooded with confusion and fear. Azkaban? Harry Potter? You couldn't send _Harry Potter_ to Azkaban. Meanwhile, the group was talking as though Harry wasn't there.

'When you see him up close, it's hard to believe he's done all that stuff. He's practically a kid.' Harry knew that voice, but what with all the confusion he couldn't place it.

'_You're_ practically a kid, Tonks,' replied another voice. Tonks and Kingsley were here – why couldn't they recognise him? 'What should we do with Potter?'

'I say Stun him,' said Tonks brightly.

**Author's Notes:**

**First three chapters are written, plus half a fourth. I'll update at 20 reviews, so I know people are actually reading it, y'know?**

**I **_**will**_** edit earlier chapters as I go. Your comments are invaluable when it comes to that part. Suggestions for a summary wouldn't go amiss, either. Oh, and if I ever sound non-British, just give a shout. I'm Australian, so hopefully I'm not too far off.**

**I know this chapter has far too much dialogue and I am editing in some description **_**right this second**_**, I swear.**

**I also promise that chapter two is much more interesting (at least, I think it is). We shall see.**

**I'm a complete amateur when it comes to Alternate Universe, by the way. I'll try my best.**

**Love, Annie.**


	2. Chapter 2

CHAPTER TWO

Harry jerked awake. He was momentarily disoriented, and then it all came flooding back.

Nobody knew who he was. Well, they thought they did. Harry Potter, the evil dark wizard. In any other situation, had he been told this, he would have snorted. Lying, attention-seeker, he could handle. Deranged and disturbed, he could handle. But being told he was going to Azkaban?

He took in his surroundings. A cube-like room – painted white with no windows, and a door. Harry got up and pulled on the handle – unsurprisingly, it was locked. He felt his forehead. No, the scar definitely wasn't there.

He felt nauseous. Everything felt wrong. Stan Shunpike cursing him. Kingsley saying Harry would be going to Azkaban. Tonks opting to Stun him.

The door banged open. Six or seven people entered, with wands pointing directly at Harry's face. Harry put his hands up into a surrendering pose.

'The Wizengamot,' said one of them, 'feel the need to have you tried by the full court before you go to Azkaban. Do you consent?'

'Now?' said Harry. He didn't bother asking _why_ he was going. According to them, he had probably spent last Friday torturing small children.

The group nodded.

Harry stood up. Their wands stayed pointing at his face. Harry sighed, and put his hands up. Well, he was sure Dumbledore would get him though. Dumbledore knew that Harry wasn't ... whoever everybody thought he was. But then, a voice nagged at the back of his head, Ron acted like he didn't know you.

Harry walked from the roo, surrounded by the group. Perhaps, he thought wildly, the Ministry were playing a joke on him, to make him look stupid.

The large doors on level seven opened. Harry hadn't even realised where he had been going; he had just been following. He steeped into the court room. _You've done this before_, Harry reminded himself firmly. He didn't look at anybody as he was pushed into the chair that chained him as he sat down.

'You have been brought here before the Council of Magical Law,' said a wizard Harry did not recognise, 'so that we may hear, first-hand, the reasoning behind your crimes. The Wizengamot agreed that, as an underage, we should have you trialled against your actions. Do you consent?'

'Yes,' Harry said firmly. He was going to find a way out of this mess, he knew it.

'Trial of the Wizengamot of July the twentieth, into offence of the heinous crimes you have committed in the last two years.'

'Crimes – what –?'

But the man steamrolled on. 'Interrogators: Daniel Joshua Barrufio, Minister for Magic;'

'Daniel Joshua – who's –?'

'Amelia Susan Bones, Head of the Department of Magical Law; Kingsley Jonathon Shacklebolt, Head Auror of the Ministry. Court Scribe, Lydia Janet Ray. Witness for the defence –' Daniel Joshua Barrufio looked around with an air of mock regret '– oh dear, we don't seem to have one.'

There was a murmur of sneering at this, but Harry kept his eyes fixed upon Barrufio.

'And so,' said Barrufio, 'we shall begin.' He looked down at his papers excitedly; it seemed he had been waiting for this day for a long time. 'The charges.' He met Harry's eyes with some sort of deranged victoriousness.

'You are accused,' he began, 'of over twenty known offences of the Imperious Curse, over fifty known uses of the Cruciatus curse and an innumerable count of the Kill—'

'_What_?' said Harry, flabbergastered, but nobody was listening to him.

'You are Harry James Potter?'

'Well, yeah, but –'

'Born on the thirty-first of July, nineteen-eighty?'

'Yes, that's me, but I haven't –'

'Of no known address?'

'No – what?' said Harry. 'You know where I live. Number four, Privet Drive, Little Whinging, Surrey.'

Sirius's voice rang clear through his head. _Be polite and stick to the facts_. Harry was reminded painfully that it was in this very building, this very _level_, where –'

'What?' barked Barrufio. 'You live in Little Whinging, Surrey?'

'Yes,' said Harry. They'd asked him if he had only last year, why didn't they know now?

Muttering followed this, but then the Minister moved on.

'And how do you plead to the above offences? Those when you used the Unforgivable curses on –'

'Not guilty,' said Harry defiantly. He would've liked to ask them why they were being so thick, but Sirius's voice rang through his head again**.**_ Be polite and stick to the facts_.

The silence that followed this, tied with the expression on Barrufio's face, might've been considered funny had Harry not been so indimitated by the glares that seemed to be piercing the back of his neck.

'Not guilty,' said Barrufio blankly. 'Not guilty.' He straightened. 'You do not know of yourself _ever_ using an Unforgivable curse?'

'No,' said Harry. _Be polite and stick to the facts_. Then he paused. 'Well, yes. But it didn't even work, and she deserved it. But just the one time,' he added firmly.

'You do not have any recollection your first offence, using the Imperius curse on Hermione Granger when you were thirteen, and forcing her to torture Colin Creevey?'

'WHAT?' Harry yelled, thunderstruck. 'I would never – she's one of my best friends!'

He could hear that a woman in the crowd was crying, but refused to break his gaze from Barrufio and see who it was. In all honesty, he didn't want to know.

'You then ran from the school after that incident, and went into hiding,' the Minister continued. 'It was then discovered that you had tortured six Muggle families in Hampshire –'

Harry stared, open mouthed, unable to believe his ears.

'... killed a Muggle family while they were shopping in London –'

'... placed numerous wizard under the Imperius Curse –'

'... murdered wizarding families in their beds –'

'STOP!' Harry yelled. 'I haven't done any of that stuff! I didn't leave school when I was fourteen! I haven't used the Killing curse on anybody! I'm still at school! I'm going into sixth year in September!'

'That,' said the Minister, 'is a lie.'

'Ask anybody!' And then, the one person who would never believe that Harry had killed anybody. 'Ask Dumbledore! He's seen me at school!'

He could still hear a woman sobbing in the crowd.

And then, from the midst of the Wizengamot, Albus Dumbledore stood up. Relief washed over Harry like cold water. 'Harry Potter,' he began, 'has not,' – here, Harry but as much thanks into his expression as possible – 'attended Hogwarts school of Witchcraft and Wizardry since his third year.'

Harry couldn't believe his ears. 'Professor Dumbledore,' he said weakly, 'you're the Headmaster, you _know_ I've been there. Tell them I've never used an Unforgivable on Hermione, Professor. Tell them I haven't killed –' the word felt bad in his mouth '– anybody.'

Dumbledore gave Harry what seemed to be a calculating look. 'I agree with the Minister for Magic, Harry. There have been several eye-witnesses for each of those crimes. I myself was one of them.' And he sat back down.

Harry couldn't say anything. His mouth seemed to have lost all intentions of moving.

'The members of the Wizengamot will now cast a vote. All who believe that these crimes deserve a life sentence in Azkaban.'

A life sentence. A _life_ ...

The members of the Wizengamot were casting their votes. Harry could hear the woman sobbing again, but he refused to turn around. He was too busy trying to give the Wizangamot what he hoped was an innocent expression.

They were raising their hands. And then Dumbledore did something that lost Harry all of his hope.

He raised his hand, too.

Harry found his strength. 'NO!' he called out. 'STOP! I haven't done anything! I'm not _Voldemort_,' he said forcefully. 'I'm not a Death Eater!'

He had hoped this would knock some sense into them. Voldemort was back. Surely his return was more important than pretending that _Harry Potter_ was a Dark Wizard.

These words, however, did not induce the desired effect. 'Who are these _Voldemort_?' demanded the Minister. 'Are they your followers?'

'No – he's a person – not that you could call him a human – but – why don't you know who he is?'

'I have never heard of him in my life,' snarled Barrufio. 'Now, the vote, please.'

Harry was outraged. 'Sick of pretending he's dead, and now deciding he doesn't exist?' said Harry angrily. 'In case you've forgotten, I proved he was back, in June – _remember_?'

Now he was receiving curious looks from the crowd. 'Vol – de – mort,' Harry said slowly. 'The one I told the Ministry had returned, yet Fudge just told everybody I was mental, instead?'

'Who?' Barrufio asked. Harry decided this man was the most infuriating one he had ever met.

'Fudge!' Harry exclaimed. 'Cornelius Fudge, last year's Minister for Magic!' Harry heard titters from the crowd now.

'Potter,' said Barrufio, 'I have been Minister for eleven y—'

'You've WHAT?' yelled Harry, who had tried to leap to his feet, but the chains had stopped him.

'I've been Minister for elev—'

'Fudge took my hearing last year!' Harry exclaimed. 'When I did the Patronus charm to stop the –'

'ENOUGH!' the Minister bellowed. 'The voting commences _now_. If you interrupt again, Potter, you will be subject to the Dementor's Kiss – understand?'

Harry nodded, defeated. He had always known the Ministry was a bunch of idiots, but this was over the line.

'That's a majority,' said Amanda Bones. 'You will be taken to Azka—'

'I WILL _NOT_!' Harry yelled, unable to contain himself. 'I'm NOT going to Azkaban when I haven't done anything! You want someone to arrest? Arrest Bellatrix _fucking_ Lestrange! She's a –'

'SILENCE, POTTER!'

'_NO!_'

And as Harry yelled, he felt the sensation he had not felt since he was thirteen, when he was doing magic without a wand. The chains fell to pieces on the floor, and he jumped up. The jury looked so taken about that they didn't even speak. And then Harry knew what he had to do. He ran up to the Minister's desk, and grabbed his wand from it.

'I'm _not_ going to Azkaban,' he said. He was fed up. The only person he thought he could rely on, Dumbledore, had turned against him. 'You're all mental, the lot of you. Voldemort – is – back. _He's_ the one you should be worrying about.'

'Return your wand to me, Potter,' said Barrufio, but, Harry was pleased to see, he looked quite worried now.

'No,' said Harry defiantly.

'Aurors!' Barrufio bellowed. 'AURORS!'

Harry heard them coming from behind, but he was ready. He spun around. '_Stupefy_!'

He was running to the door – if only he knew how to Apparate! '_Reducto_!' he yelled, and the door shattered to smithereens.

But just as he was leaving, he looked up, and saw the woman who was crying. She had red hair, green eyes, and Harry could've sworn – but no, it couldn't be. Harry just kept running, and didn't look back.

**Author's Notes:**

**I know, I know. I said I'd wait for 20 reviews on the first chapter before posting the next, and I'm still 19 off that. But, I really didn't like the first chapter, and I wanted to lead on to (what I think is) a much better chapter. Yeah, I like this one a lot better, personally.**

**So this time, I'm going to say that I'd **_**like**_** 20 reviews, but I really don't mind. I'm dying to post chapter 3 (which is finished), but if I pump them out too fast I'll hit a dead end somewhere along the way.**

**Hoping for a couple of reviews!**

**Love, Annie**


	3. Chapter 3

CHAPTER THREE

_HARRY POTTER ESCAPES THE CLUTCHES OF THE MINISTRY_

_The infamous Harry Potter, 16, after two years of being a threat to all families, wizarding and Muggle alike, had been caught by the Ministry. Ordered to a trial requested by the Wizengamot, he claimed that he had not controlled, tortured and murdered countless people. After being given his sentence of a life in Azkaban, Potter, using a branch of wandless Dark Magic, broke free of the chains on the chair, grabbed his wand, stunned two Aurors and blew apart the door. He escaped the Ministry, and is once again at large, and more dangerous than ever._

Harry threw down the newspaper in disgust. They were thick-headed gits, the lot of them. 'wandless Dark Magic' – only the Ministry would consider breaking some chains 'Dark'. And Stunning two Aurors – _yeah, because they wouldn't have done the same to me_, Harry thought angrily.

He had never really liked being famous – but being famous for defeating a Dark Wizard was a hell of a lot better than being famous for _being_ one.

He looked moodily around the alleyway he was hiding in. He couldn't go to Gringotts – they were hardly going to let a 'Dark Wizard' make a withdrawal, and the Ministry had emptied his pockets, meaning he didn't even have change from the Galleon he'd used on the Knight Bus. But some things were bothering him a lot more than money.

His mother.

Momentarily, he had been so sure it was her. Stupid of him. Of _course_ she was dead. He remembered back to his third year when he thought he'd seen his father – who had turned out to be himself.

Nothing made sense. The whole Wizarding world thought he was evil. The Ministry were denying Voldemort's very existence. He had hallucinated about his mother watching him. And, strangest of all, his scar had disappeared. His fingers traced the place where the scar _should_ have been.

He sighed. Who would be able to explain what was going on. The two smartest people he knew certainly wouldn't be telling him any time one. One had been supposedly put under the Imperius curse by him, and the other believed Harry should go to Azkaban.

Harry now knew exactly what Sirius had felt like, going to Azkaban innocent. He sighed again. He wished Sirius were here now.

Suddenly, Harry realised exactly where he could go. But how could he get there? He knew it was in London, at least. Harry looked right and left, and stepped out of the alleyway, into the street. Well, if anybody tried to attack him, he had his wand. That was some comfort, at least.

He tapped a man on the shoulder. 'Excuse me,' he asked. 'Have you heard of Grimmauld Place?'

'Grimmauld Place,' the man repeated. 'Aye, that the one with the numbers in a funny order, innit? Skips number eleven, dunnit? Aye, 'bout 'alf an hour from 'ere.'

'Walking?' Harry asked, heart thudding.

'Nay,' he laughed. 'I mean on the underground, don' I?'

'Which way?' Harry pressed.

The man frowned for a moment, then, 'West.'

'Right,' said Harry. 'Thanks.'

Half an hour later, Harry was sitting on a train. It was late at night now, and the trains were emptying as people returned home from work. At last, Harry reached his stop.

He knew where he was now. He walked up and down the streets until he found Grimmauld Place.

He stood in front of it, and waited.

And waited.

He could not get in. Why, he did not know. He stood for a goof fifteen minutes, but gave up. Nothing.

'Right,' Harry said aloud, '_right_.'

Where else could he go? Just somewhere to stay for a while, where someone could explain why everybody was under the impression he was evil.

Before he could think about anything more, somebody appeared in front of him. It had _looked_ like he'd come from somewhere between 11 and 13, but Harry had had enough experience in the magical world to know that was _not_ the case.

This person looked like – but _no_, it couldn't be, it wasn't – '_Sirius_?'

The man stopped dead and looked up. He definitely _looked_ like Sirius. He was tall, he had the same elegant black hair and handsome features, but there was something about him that wasn't quite ...

'No,' the man said coldly, in a voice that was not Sirius Black's, and continued walking down Grimmauld Place, away from Harry. 'Why does everybody always confuse _him_, that low, unworthy, blood traitor who broke my mother's heart with _me_, the respectable, loyal –'

Harry's jaw dropped. Firstly, this man seemed to think Sirius was alive. Secondly, he wasn't telling Harry that he, Harry, was evil. Thirdly, Harry knew exactly who this man was, even though it made no sense at all. 'Are you ... Sirius's _brother_? Regulus? But you're dead!'

The man stopped, and turned to look at Harry. 'I'm _what_?'

'Dead!' said Harry. 'Voldemort killed you! Sirius told me –'

'Are you _Harry Potter_?' Regulus whispered.

'Course not,' Harry said. 'He's evil, isn't he? Do I look evil to you?'

Regulus wasn't listening. If fact, he was on his knees. 'Harry Potter, sir, my family and I have believed in your cause for years. I would have joined you at any chance, had you not been so eager to work alone. However, if you have changed your mind ...' He trailed off, then extended an arm. 'Regulus Arcturus Black, Harry Potter, forever at your service.'

Harry stared at Regulus. 'Eager to work alone?' he said, dumbfounded. 'I was only alone because the damn Ministry thought I was evil! And what's this cause you're going on about, anyway?' Regulus opened his mouth, but Harry remembered something else. 'And did you say Sirius is _alive_? Where is he? I want to see him!'

'You want to see _Sirius_?' said Regulus, frowning. 'Harry Potter, I assure you, he is against your worthy cause. _I_, however –'

'_Where is he_?' Harry said. Regulus gulped.

'A while from here, Harry Potter, Sir,' he stuttered.

'Take me there,' said Harry firmly.

'As you wish, Harry Potter. I have some Floo Powder in my house, Sir, and a fireplace. Please, follow me.'

And as Harry did so, Number 12, Grimmauld Place was revealed. He followed Regulus up the stone steps and watched him open the door.

It was nothing like Harry remembered. It was _clean._ Harry could hear voices coming from the kitchen. And then Kreacher the House-Elf appeared from around the corner.

'Kreacher thought Sir Regulus would be out for a while longer so Kreacher hasn't quite finished –'

'It's fine, Kreacher, don't worry,' said Regulus quickly.

Harry had given up on being dumbfounded every time something was said, but things were getting ridiculous.

'Thanks, Regulus,' said Harry as he was showed to the fireplace. 'So where's Sirius?'

'He lives in Carvedale Avenue, but he's probably over at Potter Manor. He spends half his life there, I've heard,' Regulus said blandly.

Harry's heart began to thud. If his _scar_ had disappeared, and _Voldemort_ didn't seem to exist, and _Sirius_ was alive ... 'Potter Manor!'

Three uncomfortable seconds later, he fell out of an elegant marble fireplace and onto carpeted floor, in the middle of a living room. Four wands were pointing at his face.

**Author's Notes:**

**I know, I know, I **_**said**_** I'd update at 20 reviews last time, and this story currently only has seven, but they were all so lovely that I decided to update anyway!**

**I've just remembered – I've been editing chapters 1 and 2 a lot due to inconsistencies, and you all must have been getting those annoying alerts with no update. So sorry about that!**

**So yes, it's getting a bit more interesting. Chapter 4 and 5 are done, and I'm about to finish the 6****th****.**

**I'll update once this story gets 20 reviews – for real, this time!**

**Love, Annie.**


End file.
